Casino Royale

Went to see Casino Royale last night with the bf. What can I say? Daniel Craig does not disappoint. He is one yummy yummy screw. Kudos to the design team and Lindy Hemming in particular. The costumes were fabulous. I guess it can't hurt that every status/prestige product is clamouring for placement in a Bond flick. They were certainly spoiled for choice. What I admired most, however, is the restraint shown in putting everything together. Every costume, every moment, looked fabulous. It might have been OTT but it worked, suiting the actor, the situation and the screen. Judi Dench might be a woman of a certain age, but I found myself coveting the quirky but beautiful diamond earrings she wore in her first scene with Bond. That said, it was the dress worn by Caterina Murino that really stole the show. Forget fuck-me shoes. This is the do-me dress. Muy caliente! Or, seeing as Murino is Italian, Ciao Bella!

Big Bags

Bags of Freedom or a Heavy Burden?| Tamara Kaminsky
Times Online, 15 November 2006

On the train this morning, I turned eagerly to the feature story in today's T2 but was soon disappointed. Looking at all the sad and tragic little stargirls carrying purses that could double as body bags for their mini frames, I realized that the vast-bag has had its moment. I don't care anymore. I want something small, stylish and light as air. No room for my shopping, my dog or my vitamins. Just keys, mobile and lipstick. Miuccia, please grant my wish.

Shuts Down Intermittently

I very nearly had a Denise Richards moment the other day. When I first start up my MacBook, it switches off. Usually, I can cope with this but today I was doing some field research and needed to make an urgent entry. No dice: switch on, switch off. Switch on, switch off. I very nearly hurled it over the paraphet until I realized that's what washed up Baywatch actresses do, not princesses. Finally, Apple has come up with a fix.

Perfection

Update: And now on her way to reading social and political history at King's this fall. Kudos.

Dove

Don't like the products, but I admire the team behind this campaign. Isn't it great when commercials get all adbustery? Isn't it nice how they've been able to shuck their past (does anyone remember the old ads, pitting mothers against daughters for a man's approbation?), and reinvent themselves as a friend of feminism. Dove soap sucks. It may have one-quarter moisturizing cream, but it leaves a stubborn scum on the bathroom tiles, which makes the maid's job even harder. So I switched to another soap just for her. And do you know why? Because she is worth it.

Have a fabulous day, kids.

Rate My Bra

Storm in a Royal D-cup | Rebecca Newman
The Telegraph, 25 October
The Queen gets her custom-made undies from Rigby & Peller. Camilla favours Marks & Spencer. So which is more deserving of the royal seal-of-approval?
Full Article

Best Idea Ever!

Cashless cappuccino as coffee shop introduces the pre-pay caffeine fix | Martin Hickman, Consumer Affairs Correspondent
The Independent, 19 October 2006

A café chain is launching a coffee card so customers can pay for their shot of caffeine without having to fumble for change at busy times.
Full Article

Mid-Season Sales Slump

Everywhere on the high street it's all about the mid season sale. I stopped in at my local Whistles (up to 50% off sale now on) but after making a desultory loop around the shop I walked out. The sun's shining and it's a beautiful day. I'd much rather spend my lunch hour sitting in the park.

Major agg this morning: the wrong paper was delivered. I was disgusted to find The Daily Express on the matt. Heather and Paul are still fighting apparently.

Aquascutum Spring 2007

Photo by Giovanni Giannoni, WWD

Aquascutum Spring 07

The reviews are mixed for Michael Herz and Graeme Fidler's spring collection. While previous collections had inspired countless high street knockoffs, this season's offering is said to lack coherence and focus. Comparisons with Britain's other purveryor of rainwear heritage brand Burberry continue. While the fashionistas may not be convinced, I think the collection translates the 80's influence for today, making it fresh and wearable.

SJP Gets No Love From Nirpal Dhaliwal

Ranking at number 29 in a recent celebrity poll, Times writer Nirpal Dhaliwal exposes the other ugly side of Sarah Jessica Parker. A brilliant piece. Straight men have always been impervious to Ms Parker's charms. I remember listening to my college friends debate the merits of SJP's character Carrie Bradshaw. My friend Wade sniped that she looked like a woman's idea of an attractive woman whereas one clever wag shot back that she was a gay man's idea of a hot chick. A silence fell over the group and the point was settled. Boys dig Charlotte but Carrie gets no love.

The Sunday Times | Celebrity: The Power 50 Part Two

She legitimised being a vapid, shoe-obsessed cretin, says Nirpal Dhaliwal

The only women who are uglier and more disgusting than models are those who aren’t but wish they were. Carrie Bradshaw — brought so vividly to life by SJP — epitomised these empty-headed klutzes and their desperation to conform to the junk middle-of-the-road lifestyle peddled in glossy magazines. Parading as hip metropolitan divas, they are, in fact, driven by the most mainstream and conservative preoccupations: fashion, diets and men.

Sex and the City began as a humdrum show about some whitebread squares trading stories about their boring yuppie lives. It soon evolved into what modern women want most: a reason to hate themselves. In the process, Parker played her part to the full. She got thinner, her outfits grew more expensive and glamorous and she became another strand in the web of self-loathing in which today’s women are entangled. She legitimised being a vapid, shoe-obsessed cretin for an entire generation. Posing as a kooky, self-deprecating slave to fashion, her character was, in fact, a narcissistic witch who flaunted her possessions with ruthless vigour.

Her bouncing self-confidence was flabbergasting. Her irrepressible zest and nitwit smile beamed out the message: “I’m thin and I’m blonde, and I’m all that!” But, apart from Matthew Broderick, guys aren’t hot for bony, big-nosed, big-chinned girls. And that mole! Couldn’t she have skipped on a few designer frocks and had it fixed? Carrie always questioned why her relationships never lasted, but the answer stared right back at her whenever she looked in the mirror.

Thanks to Parker/Bradshaw, I can’t go to any bar without hearing moronic, bellini-bingeing wannabes brag about blowing the peanuts they earn in PR/media/retail on the latest stupid accessory. Men have been robbed of sexy, interesting women. And SJP carries a big chunk of the blame.

A Grey Day for Fashion

The Times October 13, 2006
Women revolt over a grey fashion dilemma | By Nicola Woolcock


SHOPPERS have been turned off by a sea of grey clothing ranges and are shunning high street fashion chains, retail analysts said yesterday.
Full Article

Vogue touts grey as "the designers' shade of choice", describing it as: "restrained, chic, edgy - its subtleties allow for eclectic interpretation, whether sharp as steel in silk or soft in jersey knits".

And Would the Gentleman Like to See Something in a Glory Hour?

Last week while in bed with the bf, we did a little web surfing. Not porn, but shoes. I was feeling the agony of defeat after having spent the day, sans taxis, in high heels. We decided it was time I found something sensible so we looked on to that well-known purveyor of sensible shoes Clarks. I found a few lovely items in the lesbian bus driver range, but the men's section is where we struck gold.

The shoes are as nasty as your creepy uncle with wandering hands and have names like Hour, Month, Star, Year, Trip--all prefixed with the spangly sounding glory! Check out the Oliver Sweeney range if you dare. The man designs shoes like he wears a cup to breakfast. And by cup, I mean rugby box. Look at the lines of Trip or Sight and see if you don't get my meaning.

Stella McCartney New Show

I am loving the romper suit. Ms McCartney definitely has her mojo working this season. Look, love, want. The blue is great too. The shade feels very 80's to me but in the best possible way. What makes it fresh is its lightness. Matched with bare skin and minimal accessories the colour feels very now. Black or green would make it a costume.

My Mother, trendspotter

I'm home for a flying visit. Although I've been back for a few days, I am just getting over my jetlag. Wish Ambien wasn't so wickedly addictive; I really need some sleep. Yesterday, while I was looking for my runners in the closet, I came across a pair of Crocs. They're my mother's apparently, and she's been wearing them for yonks. She says they are perfect for gardening. Not everyone agrees though. I found this hilarious website today.

Premiere Week

I'm back in Americas and awfully excited that I'll be around for the Season Premieres of my two favourite shows, Desperate Housewives and Lost. Other than that I'm feeling hideously jetlagged.

Travel Restrictions

Major agg. I'm flying to the States on Sunday and am trying to sort out my hand luggage. The list of what's permissible is fairly clear. And, while I don't mind going without my make-up bag, it's going to be tough leaving my lip balm in the hold. Restrictions will be eased on Tuesday, which hopefully means all my fellow dry skin sufferers will be able to bring their lotions and potions on board.

This is, of course, a small price to pay for security and I am deeply grateful to everyone who helped foil the latest plot. I just get miserable when my lips crack.

Diet Doctors

I watched the diet doctors last night with the bf. It was truly horrific. The foot and mouth section was disgusting. Especially since the culprit in most cases was poor hygiene. Yes, how tedious, but drying between your toes and flossing your chompers does pay off.

The bf was pretty dismissive of the whole thing. He's much smarter than I am and kept questioning the scientific merit of their data. I don't have much to say about that, but I was slightly dubious of mackerel's merits as a cure-all.

New York Fashion Week

While flicking through celeb blogs yesterday, I came across this pic of Victoria Beckham at the Proenza Schouler show. What I love most about this pic, which I've shamelessly ripped off, is the blonde in the background. Although she's got her hand in front of her mouth, you can tell she is laughing her ass off at Vicky's get up. Priceless.

The slutty 12 year old in me loves this outfit, but I think it's one for the dress-up box not for going out. Poor Posh. Why can't we love her? She tries so hard.

Out of the Blue

Do you see me, my love. I am
flagging. Flagging.

I was moved to tears by Rufus Sewell's reading of Simon Armitage's poem. It was brilliant.

Nineties Nostalgia

Flipping through this month's fashion mags was enough to make me believe that Kurt Cobain was still alive, Courtney Love still had some shred of credibility and Billy Corgan might save rock 'n roll. (While the 80's and the 00's were all about fashion for me, the 90's will always be defined by the music.)

I am loving the boyfriend look, feeling slightly bemused to see starlets mixing vintage with billion dollar bags, and wondering if it's possible to do grunge the second time round. I've said no to leggings and sweater dresses, strictly because the memory of my 15 year old self strutting her stuff in footless tights and graphic prints is too painful to resurrect. As a woman of a certain age, I've always maintained it's important to draw a line under certain trends once one has had a go. That said, I don't think I'll be able to resist digging my dad's cardigan out of the closet, although I may not be wearing it with leggings this time round.